


Quidditch and You

by TheUltimateUndesirable



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Ron Weasley, Depression, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Fucking Hate Physical Therapy, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Quidditch, Romantic Fluff, Sappy Ending, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUltimateUndesirable/pseuds/TheUltimateUndesirable
Summary: No matter what life throws at you sometimes you just need the little things. Someone close to you, and a hobby even pain can't take away.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67
Collections: Expecto Patronum Fest 2020





	Quidditch and You

**Author's Note:**

> As a disabled person with basically this problem (Thoracic Outlet Syndrome), along with other disabilities, I am more than happy to help spread disability awareness even. Although it hurts as I'd never wish these problems on our loved characters. Still their life is a reality and unfortunate things can happen to them as well. 
> 
> Probably comes off as OOC especially towards the end, but I had to cover a lot of time and emotion into a one shot. 
> 
> Awesome fest idea and job by our fair Empress Penguin! She encouraged me to add the little voting award I received. I'm not one to enter competitions, but she surprised us at the end by making it one!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189190041@N05/50675790536/in/dateposted-public/)

He loved watching them soar above him. Granted they weren't that far up, but still seeing all the fresh new players having fun in the air was a wonderful feeling. For all he knew he could be teaching a future Quidditch World Cup player. One who was experiencing their first time with that warm wind blowing against their face. 

“Little slower there Alkins!” Ron called up at the young beater. “Accelerate THEN glide! It gives you better aim, and a harder hit!” 

When the Ravenclaw lad followed his advice, and hit the child size bludger into one of the goal rims the redhead smiled with satisfaction. It was only a type of summer training camp where he worked with first through third years. Each with hopes of getting themselves primed for the house quidditch team tryouts. Even though the sport may have caused him a royal, and literal pain, he still loved it more than anything. 

Although he had to admit that fifth appointment at St.Mungos had been absolutely mind shattering to the point he wanted to hate it. After months they had finally determined the cause of the pain in his shoulder. Telling him it was the muscles surrounding a large cluster of blood vessel’s and series of nerves basically constricting their function. Depending on what way he moved his shoulder, or how heavy he was using it, determined the severity of his pain. Which of course was always to a degree because he couldn't not use his arm forever. 

Provoked the muscles caused his arm to go completely numb at random times, with the added pain of rushing cold water constantly. Overtime he had started to lose some, or a lot actually, of that's arms strength as his brain subconsciously had him using it less. How some stupid flesh caused his left shoulder, and the left side of his back and neck, to ache beyond belief when he used it to much or simply moved it the wrong? He just couldn’t understand why it didn’t go away itself like a sprained ankle. 

Pissed and infuriated had been an understatement even though he had had no real validation in the feeling. It wasn’t like the injury had been on purpose. It’s what he got for thinking quidditch with his brothers and Harry in the moonlight, drunk, was a brilliant idea. An idea that ended up with him falling nearly fifteen feet down to the ground and onto said shoulder. 

At the time it hadn’t been more than a rough ache. The next morning though it had hurt like a bloody bitch, and when the pain hadn’t gone away after a week, even with potions, his mum had practically dragged him to the healers. In the end originally they had left with no reasoning for the pain considering nothing was broken, and nothing seemed wrong aside from how he felt. 

Ron sighed, continuing to watch the young players fly around tossing the quaffle. They only dropped it a few times, but they were having so much carefree fun none of them really cared. Days like that he did miss. Even being older unless there was wager going on, it was all just a good bit of fun. 

It wasn’t like he couldn’t get up there with them if he wanted. Oftentimes he pulled out his broom for a different vantage point, and to give out better tips on some moves. Other times at home though he just liked going for a good fly by himself for a little while. He just couldn’t do it for as long as he wanted. Holding the handle even with both hands eventually caused his dreadful left shoulder to ache. If he pushed it too far he would end up on the floor for the rest of the day. 

Not that that mattered considering he didn’t have a bloody job. His option had basically been a secretary with a reserve call for backup if really needed. He wasn’t about to spend his life filing fucking paperwork. Thankfully four years of auror work had him with enough savings for another eight months if he was conversative to figure out what he was going to do that he actually enjoyed in life. Little league quidditch was fun, but it didn’t pay any bills. 

“How are they doing?” Harry asked him suddenly.

Ron didn’t take his eyes off the young witches and wizards when his best mate suddenly appeared at his side. Ever since the accident they had spent more time together than ever, and to him that said a lot. They had seen each other everyday at work, and hung out on the weekends. Then once they had gone their separate ways from Hermione and Ginny it meant a few extra nights at the pub or listening to the wireless together during the week. 

“Some of them have some serious potential for school teams. Although…..” he finally looked to Harry. The raven haired bloke was still in his auror work robes, and Ron hated momentarily how good they looked on him. Lingering jealousy that still hadn’t left. “...between you and me that Karrin shouldn't be allowed on a broom. Lads gonna get himself hurt.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “Sure you aren't just being a bit protective there?” 

Huffing at the question the redhead turned his gaze back towards the sky. A good instructor or team captain was always supposed to be concerned with the safety of the players. Even if that meant the advice or light suggestion of waiting a year or two before attempting tryouts. It had nothing to do with what happened to him. Except maybe the fact he didn’t wish it on someone else, especially a child. 

“Bothering you today?” Harry asked, and Ron glared at him out of the corner of his eye with a heavy exhale. 

“Yes,” he grumbled, realizing he must have subconsciously rolled his neck and shoulders to loosen them up. It was a bad habit of natural instinct to try and alleviate some of the pain. “Made the mistake of getting on and showing Alkins a beater trick. Worth it though.”

“Ron….” 

“Don’t even start,” the redhead said a bit hotly, cutting him off. He didn’t need another lecture on not doing things that were obviously going to trigger some of the symptoms. Usually he got the lecture from everyone besides Harry and the twins, but he wasn’t in the mood for it. He couldn’t go the rest of his life without bloody using it, and he didn’t understand why people didn’t get that. If he had to do that he wasn’t even sure he would want to be around to deal with it. 

“Okay fine,” Harry conceded without any of the annoyance that had been in his. His voice if anything was more gentle. “...but a beater's move? Really?” he did ask. “Out of everything that’s the worst to try and show. Hell playing keeper is better. Beater you have to grip the broom extra hard to stay steady…

“Fucking hell mum I know I know,” Ron groaned. He knew Harry was just concerned for how he felt, and honestly didn’t care much about his being on the broom unlike everyone else. He only got concerned when he did more than necessary…..like knocking a bludger across an open expanse of field a few times with a little too much anger behind the hit. 

**XXXXXXXX**

Hermione looked down at him with a face of disapproval. Not that he had expected anything less. Despite having broken off their short relationship the witch was still as much of his friend as ever. They weren’t as close anymore, like he and Harry were, because she was always busy doing everything. One of the top reasons their relationship ended. Along with her bloody bickering and nagging like she was doing now. 

He felt like a prat for having expected anything more from her in a relationship. Teenage crushes always turned out weird. Although he had a feeling where his attempt to be with the witch had come from something he didn’t speak of. Hell he hardly acknowledged it. She was someone who had shown interest in him that wasn’t a suffocating Lavender. Some else he already knew. It had been a comfortable option in an otherwise uncomfortable situation. 

“Why would you do that Ron? You know you’re not supposed to. The healer says to minimize strenuous use. Helping your dad go to muggle London and pick up a bunch of muggle stuff you couldn’t even shrink until four blocks down the street counts as strenuous you know,” she pointed out like he was stupid. 

Ron rolled his eyes at her continued rambling, uncaring to whatever else she was saying now. The floor indeed felt good like always. Taking all the standing weight off his upper body that pulled down on his muscles, nerves or whatever, thanks to gravity. Granted sometimes he had to lay on his right side because even his back started to hurt from the pressure, at least it was some form of relief. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Hermione asked, sounding exasperated. 

“What? Oh. Yea. Yea,” he said mindlessly to agree with her so she would hopefully leave him alone. 

“Ronald….” the witch growled above him. Her bushy hair was pulled back from her long day at work. Not many people would miss work but he found he did at this point. He had felt needed and productive as an auror. He missed that feeling.

“What do you want Mione?” the redhead asked, defeatedly looking her in the eyes finally instead of the ceiling. “I’m not in the mood okay? I fucking hurt right now. Can’t you just leave me alone?” 

“And who’s fault is that for?” she asked rhetorically. “Nothing is going to stop or take away the pain, and you’ve got to learn not to strain yourself. Your nerves are being compressed. It’s okay not to be able….” 

“If the bloody healers would just do a little more research,” Ron countered irritably. “They don’t go through training for nothing now do they? Not like they don’t have a world of magic and ancient books to go through.” 

While admittedly Hermione had researched greatly on the subject, and he knew if she couldn’t find much that neither would some simple healer, he just couldn’t find it in himself to accept his new lot in life. No matter everyone’s sympathy. He didn’t want bloody pity. 

She didn’t stop by as often as Harry, who came by every day, but she did a few times a week now just check in on him. Any time she found him in pain for a reason other than just typical daily use she got pissed at him for being a prat. He didn’t know how long it was going to get her to stop chastising him for trying to live normally, or stop her from mothering him worse than his own mum did. It was beyond annoying. 

“Magic can do a lot, but there are some things it just can’t change,” Hermione finally said almost sadly, and Ron rolled his eyes away from the tone. “That’s like asking for them to fix Harry’s eyes or give you a new brain. It’s one of the few things…”

“Well I just get lucky now don’t I?” he interrupted bitterly. “One of the only things out of the entire world of magic that can’t be solved. We can regrow bloody bones and swap bodies but noooooo. Fixing some stupid nerve endings isn’t possible.”

“I still think you should try the muggle idea,” Hermione said, ignoring him completely. “See the physical therapist. It won’t solve it altogether, but like pain potions it will help. Maybe for a longer period of time than potions. Especially paired together.” 

“I don’t want to go see some muggles!” he snapped, twisting his neck a little too hard back to her but he didn’t let her see the pain. “How is whatever they can do any better than what we can!”. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t like muggles, but he didn’t see how they could do anything better than the healers. Healers had literal magic healing things muggles never could, and at record speeds in comparison. There was also no desire to go through another round of ‘I’m so sorry’ from people, and then put him through all these weird muggle contraptions that would probably freak him out she had said they used. 

“You know there are plenty of things they have to their advantage. Different forms of health care is one of them,” Hermione said mildly. 

Ron growled, waving her off with his right hand. She wasn’t worth moving his left one. “Just go already.”

“I’m going to fill out the paperwork, and I’m making you an appointment,” the witch said with no room to protest, finally walking away from him. When he heard the floo flare to life signaling her leaving he closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t feel like arguing. It took too much work anymore. At least she was finally gone for the time being. 

A hand suddenly started stroking his hair causing his neck muscles to relax like always. He hadn’t realized how tense they had gotten. Not many things relaxed him or made him truly comfortable anymore. Working with the kids, muggle movies, and Harry were about it. 

“Can’t you just try it?” Harry asked after a minute of peaceful silence where he could just enjoy his fingers running through his hair. “Three times. Just try, and if you don’t feel a little better during it we won’t make you go again.” 

“You aren’t making me go this time,” Ron pointed out without the bubbling anger he had felt towards Hermione. There was very little his best mate could do anymore that resulted in the anger others sparked, especially on such sensitive topics. Usually when they bickered, which wasn’t often, it was over small domestic shit that reminded him of when his mum would get annoyed at his dad for eating the rest of the cookie dough. 

Unlike the witch, Harry didn’t protest. Instead he just smoothed the entire palm of his hand over the side of his head causing him to lean into the touch. Unrealistically he wished the bloke would repeat the soothing gesture more often than was probably comfortably allowed for friendship. Not that what he did now was necessarily comfortably allowed. It was just something that had started the night of the accident, and he hadn’t stopped it. If anything he had grown down right addicted to Harry’s hand stroking his hair, sitting nearly against him. 

“Alright,” Harry said simply. “If it’s what you want, but…. I’m tired of seeing you like this.” 

Ron’s eyes opened, and he was taken aback when the bloke moved some of the hair off of his forehead giving him a good view of his green ones. They were gentle, almost hurt, and caring. No one else seemed to care the way he did. Harry still treated him like normal. Well maybe not entirely normal. He didn’t like to analyze what the ‘not normal’ was. It made him uncomfortable, which was counterproductive to how his best mate really made him feel. 

Admittedly he had let himself go a little since the accident. Far more mentally than physically, although he wished for full strength back on his left side. Trying to mentally regain himself though just sucked because he needed to make decisions. He needed to organize feelings, and come to grips with some, and just a bunch of other rubbish that had him not wanting to do any of it. 

“I don’t want to see you in pain,” Harry said, speaking again causing him to blink. 

If he felt better, and finally went on with life would the bloke quit coming around so much? If he wasn’t ever going to feel entirely better, like everyone was saying, did that mean he was always going to be with him like this? Ron’s heart beat a little too slowly, and his throat constricted imagining both situations. Wanting Harry there all the time, even more than he was now, wasn’t something he should be fearful of losing considering how often they had seen each other before the injury. Honestly if they lived together he might be even happier. Coming home to him, always watching the telly, going out just for some fun…. 

“No one does,” Harry continued gaining his focus again. “...and this….I know it isn’t the same, but it hurts us too.”

Harry stopped dragging his fingers around on his scalp, and simply caressed his cheek, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb beside his eye. He didn’t always do that, however when he did it resulted in his heart to swelling some, and his breathing to deepen as he let his neck go completely lax against his hand. That wasn’t a gesture that had been picked up until a month or so after the accident, before they had fallen into the routine of daily visits with the bloke sitting in bed or on the floor with him like he was now trying to make him feel better. 

For a minute Harry just stared at him, and for that minute Ron felt increasingly uncomfortable just like the other times. He hated when he did that. He hated when he, or any of them, were gentle with him. 

“You’re some sappy arse best mate,” Ron said trying to break the uneasy feeling growing in his stomach yet again.

The bloke blushed, probably noticeable to everyone except him, glancing away half a second causing him to smile. “And you’re a stubborn arse git,” he replied when he looked back with what had grown into a smirk. 

Ron shrugged his good shoulder, enjoying the way it bumped into Harry’s knee with the way he was clearly sitting so close. Thigh almost against his head so he could look down directly over him. “Well that bit is normal though now isn’t it?” he asked, knowing full well both statements were the truth, but that his best mates was the new development. 

Harry glared at him, then tugged on his hair roughly causing him to wince. Just the way he liked it. In response they both huffed a laugh with light shared smiles that he practically lived for now. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Groaning Ron fell onto his mattress. Not all that caring to how he landed. He just wanted to lay down, and Harry had stubbornly forced him up the stairs to his room. It was too long of a journey in his opinion, and he would have been content with the entryway floor. No. Instead the bloke had all but pushed him forward, and he was too sore to fight it.

“Can you tell me what hurts?” Harry asked over him.

“Everything,” he mumbled into the sheets. 

They had taken a muggle cab home which seemed to have taken forever. Apparating in a lot of pain though he had learned sent you down to your knees instead of landing on your feet. Sore knee caps on the pavement was not something he wanted to deal with after these stupid appointments. 

“Merlin…what in the hell did they even have you do this time?” Harry asked, sounding annoyed himself at how much he hurt. 

“Moved my arms about a dozen different ways,” he told him. On the ride home he hadn’t exactly wanted to talk. “Wanted me to keep it there, and repeat it twenty times for ten seconds each. Every way fucking possible basically. Bloody muggle was a right bitch too,” he continued on complaining, groaning as he rolled onto his good side. 

It was the only position he could lay in and feel better. Or at least as best as he could manage given his lovely never ending physical pain. That now was even more constant with them wanting to keep doing what they called their ‘exercises’ every day at home. 

The muggle woman today had hardly cared when it felt like too much. She just kept pushing him on to do it, and about some rubbish that physical therapy wasn’t supposed to make you feel better. He would have rather been in the death contraption pulling his neck that had had him aching for a day over this fully numb pulsing heartbeat like feeling down his shoulder and arm. 

“Can you sit up?” Harry asked him what sounded like distantly. 

“No,” he said flatly just wishing the bed would swallow him alive. There was no way possible this was going to make him feel better. It was doing a pretty fucking poor job at it so far after all. There was major regret in letting that third appointment trick him into wanting to go back a fourth time. 

Ron vaguely heard Harry rummaging around before holding the light blue vial of pain relieving potion over him, and in front of his face. With no choice he took it with his left hand, tilting backwards just enough to gulp it down, and let Harry take it from his hand. Then wonderfully letting his arm flop back down onto the large pillow that had basically become his personal snuggle buddy. Keeping it lifted up horizontal, especially on really bad days like this was literally the only thing that helped relieve the pressure. 

These days were the ones that made him hate himself, and his bloody lot in life. Finally getting somewhere good in it as a skilled auror, only to have it taken from him. What was he supposed to do anymore besides lay in wait for life to do him in as he stared at the wall boringly feeling empty? 

Suddenly the bed dipped as Harry laid down on the bed behind him, not even bothered by his proximity. If anything it made him feel less lonely and more comforted. It was close enough he nearly felt his body heat, and if they were any closer he might as well be spooning. Ron hated how he actually wished for it. 

“What are you doing?” the redhead asked.

“You said the massage part last week made you feel a lot better?” Harry half asked, and half stated. “Can’t very well massage your shoulder with you laying down. It’s why I asked if you could sit up.” 

Ron didn’t protest for a second as he felt a hand start kneading softly on his neck. It almost felt like what the one muggle therapist had done. Not exactly the same, but it was good enough to relax him a little until he went completely lax against the pillows. 

His eyes started growing heavy from either exhaustion, the potion, or the soothingness of Harry’s hand working slowly into his muscle. It allowed him to exhale the first relaxing breath he had had since before the bloody appointment. All he wanted to do now was sleep. Sleep and maybe never wake up if he was lucky so he wouldn’t have to deal with the bullshit anymore. Regardless if he woke or not at least asleep he didn’t normally feel the pain. 

Harry eventually quit massaging his shoulder in favor of running his fingers through the back of his hair softly. He didn't feel him against anything else which meant he was being cautious enough not to put any impact or other pressure onto his upper body. A good thing considering he would loathe it having the momentary relief be gone. 

Sure the bloke would probably massage it back to relaxation to make up for it, but the longer Harry touched him more gently the more he didn’t want him to stop. He briefly wondered if he had already dozed off considering he didn’t know how long they had been like that. Just lost in the soothing sensation enough to feel the ease of sleep coming on. 

Then his eyes opened, fully aware he hadn’t yet, and he had just been lost in the sensation. Considering the feeling of lips on his neck they opened far too calmly in his opinion. It caused the hair on his arms to stand up due to anxious yet not awkward panic like he knew he should have had. Like always he tried not to analyze how he wanted more of it all. Only it was near impossible since it was something he had secretly imagined. 

As he felt the bed dip telling him that Harry was leaving he found himself closing his eyes again so the bloke wouldn’t see he was awake as he left the room. A part of him wished he wouldn’t. He just couldn’t find a way to say ‘hey mate I need you touching me and being up against me to make me feel better’. So he settled for replaying the feeling of closeness and the gentle kiss in his head, mentally shrugging off the want until he finally managed to drift off. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The next morning, aside from his trip to the loo, Ron debated getting out of bed at all ever again. Frankly he was torn by so many emotions they were all just colliding together cancelling each other. To the point where he wasn’t thinking all that much about anything past everything he felt inside and out sucked. 

There were so many confused feelings, internal debates, and depression he was tired of fighting with them. Some even caused his heart to hurt, but after months of practice he was able to keep the tears at bay. They never got him anywhere anyways, and only made him feel worse. 

What happened when little league quidditch quit? What happened when he finally stupidly called the bloke out on all the affection because it was starting to eat him inside due to too much longing? If those were taken from him he wasn’t sure how he would go about life. He truly wouldn’t leave his bed then. What would he even have a reason to get up for?

As if summoned by his own thoughts, Harry walked through the door to his bedroom without so much as a knock. A typical occurrence really. He was only in his joggers, and one of his worn shirts with the sleeves torn off. It told him the bloke hadn’t got out of bed all that long ago. 

Ron felt his chest tighten again, remembering the first times his best mate had started coming over earlier in the day. After starting physical therapy now it was nearly first thing after he woke up. Like he was the first thing that came to mind. If he felt the energy he probably would have beat his head against his pillow for continued inappropriate feelings, that he had actually been trying to think through for once. 

“Still not out of bed?” Harry asked, sounding concerned pausing with his hand on the door knob. “Are you not feeling better?” 

He looked away uncomfortably, but forced himself to sit up regardless for the bloke’s ease. It wasn’t like he felt physically as horrible as the day before. There was still a weight on his shoulder, not counting the mental one bogging him down. 

“Tolerable,” the redhead mumbled, feeling sheepish for some reason. That was a lie. He knew why. It was about half of what he had been fighting with himself about throughout the morning, along with what he planned to do for the rest of his life besides lay in bed. 

“Here,” Harry said, walking over to the bedside table predictably. He came around a second later to hand him his morning pain potion before sitting down next to him on the bed. Again. 

He just stared at the vial in his own hand. The stupid light blue liquid was was only going to help him for the majority of day, and that wasn’t including if he wanted to do something more active. Glancing up he noticed Harry frowning. 

“What?” Harry asked him. 

The redhead’s eyes flickered between the potion and his best mate. Sure the potion did it’s thing, but Harry somehow managed to help in his own way. A way that was different from his mum, Hermione….

It caused his stomach to twist, actually looking at him and questioning things at the same time. He could feel the way the palm of Harry’s hand smoothed over the round of his shoulder, working it’s way up the side of his neck gripping lightly before sliding back down. The process repeated over and over again leaving him staring. 

Harry raised his eyebrows and it caused him to notice strands of his unruly hair sticking out over his forehead. He looked past due for a haircut himself. That had to have been the most unsettling part at first. Whenever the bloke moved his hair out of his eyes the gesture was too soft and sweet. It had him yearning for more than that, although he wasn’t sure what the more than that he could ask for. Continually stroking his hair? 

Asking your best mate to continually stroke his hair like he was petting a bloody kneazle wasn’t weird at all. Then again the bloke bloody kissing the back of his neck when he thought he was asleep wasn’t weird at all either. Their whole relationship had changed into something weird between all the excessive time together, gentle intense caring…... 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked again a little more firmly, like he was hiding some of his pain. In a way he supposed he was. 

“I like it. A little too much actually,” he said defeatedly, staring at the floor like it was the worst thing he could admit. Looking out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry with furrowed brows. 

“Umm....you’re going to have to elaborate on that one,” the bloke pointed out sounding genuinely confused.

“Sometimes it feels better than the potions,” Ron admitted quietly, knowing it was at the doing something stupid phase. “When you…” 

“When I….” Harry dragged out for him to continue as soon as he paused unable to get the words out.

Ron huffed, rubbing his eyes with his stronger hand willing himself not to say it. He failed though against his better judgement. People didn’t admit those kinds of things, like things like that with their best mate. 

“When you’re just here,” he said, simply hoping it was enough to satisfy them both mentally without sounding like a fool. “When you just sit beside me. When….when you stroke my hair,” he forced himself to admit.

The redhead really hoped he wasn’t blushing at how intimate it sounded. There was no choice though as Harry shifted on the bed moving closer to him. Close enough that their legs were almost pressed against one another. 

“Sweet circe…” he muttered to himself 

“I just want to see you happy again,” Harry told him, starting to run his hands through his hair again, causing him to groan in both defeat and pleasure. 

“It’s not weird that half that comes from you always being here? Touching me?” he asked bluntly. “Kissing me?” he added on impulse just wanting some kind of answer.

For a second Harry didn’t say anything. He just ignored the question, and basically called out on the latter. 

“What’s the other half?” he finally spoke, still staring into his red hair he seemed content to keep playing with as if it was his own coping mechanism. 

“The kids,” he answered right away. Really he wanted to find a way he could always work with them versus just during the summer.

“Then sounds bloody brilliant to me,” Harry said with a shrug still refusing to look at him.

“You didn’t answer the original question,” he pointed out blandly for it being ignored. 

That was when Harry removed his hand from his hair. Appearing to chew on his cheek with his own internal debate. Hesitantly he reached out, rubbing his shoulder like normal, and let it move up his neck. Sliding it up and down a few times in a way he hadn’t done before. 

Harry’s eyes flickered all over his face looking for something. Something that caused his face to turn hot. Ron knew he found it because he could feel it in his own eyes and cheeks. Because then he was leaning in slowly, and Ron realized he was holding his own breath.

It was almost like being pulled until their lips were finally touching. Merlin he both hated and loved how Harry felt like fresh air. How it felt like sweet satisfaction for finally being allowed the experience. How it felt like an overdue release of pent up energy from months of feelings he had suppressed. Seemingly both had suppressed with the amount of passion that started leaning them towards a full on snog. 

Somehow they slowly managed to stop, mostly because he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. When their lips lingered, but parted nonetheless, a wash of loss, and worry settled over him. He just wanted to keep snogging him. Feeling him against him. 

“Does that make you feel better?” Harry whispered still only inches from his face, staring him in the eyes what looked like almost hopefully.

Ron’s mouth felt incredibly dry even though his lips were wet. “Uh...is...kissing your best mate allowed to make you feel better?” he asked slowly.

Harry actually blushed, admittedly adorably. “I think that one is up to you,” he answered. 

“It never feels the same way with anyone else,” he said wanting to brush their lips together again, but resisting. “I mean it feels good, but when you do things it’s different.” 

“How?” the bloke asked simply. 

“Umm….” Ron hesitated even though he wasn’t sure why. They had already kissed after all, he just hadn’t confessed to what turned out to be some hidden pining. “I’m….I’m pretty sure because it’s you….” 

Harry took to rubbing his shoulder and neck again, clearly trying not to smile. “Like that?” he asked lightly with quite a bit more confidence in his voice.

Ron found he could only nod. He registered how close they still were, and how good it had felt to have Harry kiss him. To finally have part of himself out in the open. It was like he didn’t even need bloody potions. 

On an impulsive move Ron captured his best mate’s lips and started kissing him with renewed energy he didn’t know he had left in him. Although he didn’t move his left arm out of habit the pain almost started to leave his mind entirely. Especially as Harry stroked the hair on his forehead up off it, keeping the hand nestled in his hair as they continued to snog.

He tried desperately not to pull him down into the bed, but he wanted the satisfaction of finally feeling free of one worry. There couldn’t be worry considering he was being kissed and held in return. It was too soon, literally having been only about five minutes, to actually say all that he had felt. However it was Harry. Just Harry. He wanted to call him his Harry because of everything he was, and always did for him. 

“I don’t know how I’d have ever managed any of this without you,” Ron finally confessed in between kisses. “All of you, but you….you’ve always been there in a different way. I...” 

“I really do love you Ron,” Harry interrupted with what he wasn’t able to say, planting a big kiss on his cheek causing him to smile. “Actually love you. Maybe even before, and this just gave me validation to show it.” 

Ron laughed allowing the bloke to just have his fill of overdue kissing. Maybe he could move on with this new phase of his life if he could just admit things. Especially with Harry by his side. 


End file.
